


The Airport

by alec



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Depression, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alec/pseuds/alec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you ever pass by someone and wonder what your life would be like?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Airport

The airport wasn't terribly packed. Chicago was dark, the winter sun having set while Jackson was still above the clouds. Subtle enough that he hadn't realized it had happened until he stared out the window, fascinated with the clouds streaming off the wings as the plane emerged over the city. Jackson was heading home; it had been a long semester, difficult and trying, and he'd made it out well enough, but it had destroyed him. He felt exhausted; the exams and studying were tiring, and as Jackson thought over the past few weeks, so many hours sitting in the library flashed in his mind. Sitting there, alone. Always dark out, even if he'd just woken up. The library had a way about it.

Jackson was heading for his next plane. People brushed past. He had time. With the rush of the exams over, he had so much time. Enough that he wasn't sure what to do with it all, even if that was just a figment of his imagination and before he knew it, it would be over, and he'd be flying back. Jackson's backpack bounced from one side to the other.

It wasn't hard to find his way around the airport. They weren't tricky places, and the signs everywhere made it easy. Jackson didn't need to think about where he was going. He'd been here before. Done this before. And he knew what was on the other end. Soon he'd be home, he'd get to see Emma, and he'd sleep and eat a lot and see his old friends. It would be nice.

He felt so alone, walking through that airport.

His next gate was C16; next terminal, by the food court. There was a woman playing, in the distance; beautiful piano music, Christmas themed, but to Jackson, it just sounded like love. The snow, the winter, the cold; they'd been the most comforting thing for him when he needed it, and Christmas felt like a celebration for them. As she sung out carols with her fingers, the woman smiled and her eyes shone with a radiance, and Jackson stopped for a while to listen to her simply play. He had the time.

At the song change, he nodded his head in thanks, and continued along, walking between the families rushing across the terminals and the too-slow couples sightseeing. There wasn't snow falling but outside the great glass planes lining the walls, it was clearly winter; even the glass looked cold, and feeling nostalgic for a time he hadn't experienced, Jackson stopped to place his fingers against the glass, before resting his head.

The mechanized walkway was always a fun time for Jackson. As a kid, like every kid, he had run them up and down, teetering on tiny and ungainly legs, fascinated by how fast he was moving. His mom would look sternly at his dad, who would halfheartedly shuffle after the boy. When had he outgrown that happiness? Jackson refocused, looking up, not quite sure when his gaze had fallen to the floor.

There, letting the walkway move him along, stood a lanky boy, long brown hair unruly and shooting out in odd directions. Freckles across his face, a very slight fuzz around his jaw. The white cords of earphones jutting from where his ears poked through the brown. Eyes staring off into the distance, through Jackson, who just stared at this boy, with a weird feeling deep inside that he recognized but didn't want to experience.

And in that moment, with the boy passing him by, he saw their life together: how they meet, at the food court. Forced to share a table, with the Christmas traffic at full capacity. Awkwardly making conversation, trying to ignore the fact that Jackson felt so stiff, so stale. But the other boy not turning away, instead keeping the conversation surprisingly lively. Jackson would laugh when the boy would get the hiccups, drinking his soda too damned fast. And they would exchange numbers.

And they would text over the break, and Jackson would be disgusted with how fast he was falling for Harry, but he would pine over his phone, waiting for the next text, focused on the lighthearted conversation that would turn to banter and then to serious dialogue. And then Harry would text him at the turn of the year: "Happy New Year. To new beginnings."

And then they would talk on the phone. The distance would be hard, but Jackson was so close to graduation already. And then he was walking across the stage, cap and gown and genuine smile, and his family was cheering on one end of the stadium and Harry was calling his name from the other, because he had managed to screw up booking the ticket.

And then they were finally together. Not because it was expected, but because Harry had asked him, pulled him close before Jackson had graduated, and asked him to join him, in a new city, at a new school. And Jackson said yes, with a smile so wide his face wasn't able to hold it for very long. So they moved in together, and Harry started grad school, and Jackson got a job after a number of interviews and nervous nights and perhaps one or two skipped breakfasts.

Then the events flashed by quickly, assorted snippets of the future: Harry's graduation, with tears fogging Jackson's vision here; joining Harry's family for Christmas in Colorado because Harry had joined Jackson's for Thanksgiving; moving to a larger house; the ring; the aisle; their first night as a married couple, and the bitemarks on their necks that faded over the next few weeks. Jackson's promotion, Harry joining the university.

The fight; the tears; Jackson throwing a pillow to Hiccup and slamming the door; hearing Harry at the door to the bedroom, determining if it was the right time to knock, and then walking away; waking up the next morning and realizing that had been the worst decision; running out to Harry; embracing him; crying; falling asleep in his arms.

And then Emma would visit with her boyfriend, who Jackson would force to prove himself far beyond what he would expect reasonable of any normal boy. And the boy would pass with flying colours, but Jackson would still be ready to break the boy's neck if he hurt her. And then Emma would visit again with the same boy, and their son, and Harry and Jackson would be uncles, and as the baby played with their dog, Harry would look over at Jackson.

The forms; the waiting; then finally seeing her. Their little girl. And Jackson would be so terrified, afraid that he was going to drop their porcelain angel, until Harry finally had to convince Jackson to just _take_ her. And she would get older, and they would teach her how to ride a bike, how to punch a boy, how to add, how to lie, how to dance and how to ask out a boy. And then it would be time to send their daughter off to university, and Harry would cry like a big dork, and Jackson would tease him just to cover up his own tears.

And Harry would age perfectly, the white strands coming in beautifully in small strands, then patches. He wouldn't notice the wrinkles at first, but once he did, he would be self-conscious about them, even though Jackson told him they were cute. And he would mumble that he wasn't _cute_ , he was _handsome_. Jackson would laugh.

And they would be sitting on a park bench, and Harry would make a joke about how they should be feeding those birds some bread because "they just look so hungry (I'm pretty sure I could train one to do tricks)" and Jackson would just look at his aged, weathered husband and tears would come to his eyes, because he did it. They did it. They made it. And his lower lip would quiver and his eyes would water and Harry would look over and meet his eyes, and just smile.

All of these things showed before Jackson's eyes. A whole life of possibilities; an entire future with this boy he'd never met but felt like he'd known for so long. Jackson looked over his shoulder at the boy whose frame had passed by.

And the boy was looking back across the medium, eyes soft and face relaxed. Their eyes met.

Jackson got off the walkway and doubled back the way he had came, unsure what he was planning to do.

But that was okay. He had enough time.


End file.
